Dr Director's direct route to Love
by SomecallmeMichelle
Summary: Dr Director is many things, cynical, frustrated, a scapegoat...but her life may changewhen she enters in contact with one Lord Montgomery (widely known as Monkey Fist) My first long story ever, and I'd like your opinions, don't be afraid to voice them! I'm willing to listen! COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: This is kind of a silly pairing, it's a Dr Director x Monkey Fist story, which, as strange as it sounds, has never been done before, maybe because it's so darn weird. Anyway, this is going to be of a relatively bigger size than my other stories. It might reach the five digit numbers. (that's the tens of thousands), we'll see. - I have this sort of planned out but I've never invested in such a huge project before, I might take months to finish this, I might take years...my life is kind of complicated right now.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy "_Dr Director's direct route to love" _**

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Her life was pretty much like a movie already..,..now the only thing that had changed was what kind of movie it was. For the last few months she had changed...morphed, and so had her life. If previously her life was like a Superhero or spy thriller movie, with explosions and defeating bad guys (with a perfect hair all throughout), nowadays it was much more of a romantic scene. Not a romantic comedy, per sae, no, her life rarely had such lightweight moments, but at least it had a sense of romance to it. And contrary to what was expected of her, she did not just fall for it and went submissive. She, sort of always a feminist, had always thought of that idea as a crunchy pile of bull crap. And she fought for the right to be the person on top, the one who wore the pants.

She had always had a sort of heart of ice, but now...well now things had changed, and while she didn't know if they were necessarily for the best, at least not yet, she was quite enjoying the feverous feeling of a thumping heart.

And really though...she was sure the feeling, whether it kept on, or subsided into a pure routine, was making her happy. She still had responsibilities, but to know that when after a long day making strenuous decisions she could go home and meet up with him...even if they were polar opposites...that just made the day slightly more bearable...even if it meant she had to take the slightly idiotic and otherwise chaotic high class man that was Montgomery and keep him happy, which she achieved easily.

And to think of how it had all started...that was the fascinating part about all of this, she had been seduced and played with, and, even though she logically knew what she was being done with, after all she was the head of a major secret organization, she let herself tangle herself into the webs of Montgomery (or Monty as she now called him),

She was sure her feelings were real, and Montgomery couldn't be faking them, she had always been good at reading people, it was how she had gotten so far ahead in life, after all, and she could see the look of pure adoration Monty had for her.

Still though, as they danced the waltz, in his house, between the flickering lights of the chandeliers, on a scene that reminded her of one of her old animated movies she had watched when she was younger, between the counts of "one, two", she let herself remind herself of all the things that had lead her to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: This first chapter is just to explain some things about her cynical attitude later in the story, you'll see, anyway, opinions, reviews, please? Thank you for reading**

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Dr Director hated Mondays – well, she hated most every day of the week, but Mondays were the most scorn deserving of the days of the week for her – A crazy plot always seemed to be revealed at Mondays, making her undoubtedly have to sit down and have to plan an offensive strike against whomever threatened the earth at that moment. Why wouldn't terrorists and armed militia forces pick another day of the week to do their evil bidding? – She Wondered as she sat at her office. The room – Sparsely decorated, almost Spartan in style despite the person to whom it belonged, populated only with a mahogany desk, some chairs, and a wall screen, similar to a television behind the desk (besides the gathering of paperwork and ink pens that were above the desk, ready to be worked on, as well as one telephone) – was devoid of anyone but her, she looked around and looked at the screen – it was synchronized with CNN 24 hours, and it showed her what was happening in the world. Today it was another super villain who attacked. She heavily sighed as she looked at the blinking red light on the telephone, someone was calling her and, due to the way the organization had been organized, only a few people had the number to call her.

She picked the telephone up and immediately detected who was on the other side. – the president of the whole "free world" – The man was speaking in a rushed tone, almost in a panic like state. Dr Director tried to not let her frustration ooze through her voice and into the conversation as she went into a series of "mmmh" and "huh huhs", this wasn't new to her, there was always someone doing a terror attack, even more so on Mondays. She was half expecting it.

She looked at the clock on the wall and mentally removed the hours to the hour on the particular state of America that was being attacked in the Midwest, with their secret base on the Atlantic it was a simple case of removing some hours. She sighed again, today the trouble had started early.

She did her best to try and end up the conversation as soon as possible, since it wasn't news to her, and she knew the procedure already. She stifled a yawn, this was boring her, still it was her job – to deal with the scum of the earth and save the world on a regular basis. Or rather, to command the teams that would do it.

The number was a secret, but that didn't stop the fact that all the people who had it used it to boss her around and demand help. – And while she enjoyed saving people and helping – to an extent – it was certainly frustrating. It was like being on customer service, a lot of stressed out people, either panicking or screaming, demanding help – and there wasn't much she could do if the attack was happening at the moment (which it was, they only called when the fan had already been hit) – she could send a team, but physics and the limits of transportation speed still applied – they wouldn't get there for a long time. She would be the scapegoat among the higher ups– even if her teams and herself couldn't do anything to help – the people who should warn them – the undercover agents and recon people – those always seemed to somehow evade the blame.

It was stressful and she didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit – the few times she managed to stop an attack while it still happened, often by pure chance – she was congratulated, and awarded medals along with her agents – but those were forgotten in a laughable short amount of time , when the next crisis happened, and they were back to being screamed on.

It wasn't that her organization was incompetent, she certainly did her best to stop all the evil and or opposite views to those of the ruling of the countries, she could – it was that something new seemed to happen every week, and she couldn't do much to avoid it other than maybe try to set up teams on the spot. But even if she had teams on land (something most countries didn't want), she could never fully predict what countries would be attacked. And even if she could, what cities, or spots in those cities would be. She could try and guess, but it was just that, a guess. Due to the secrecy of the organization they couldn't even bring on new agents that often, their staff was overworked and, despite their advantages, as well as a huge budget – there wasn't anything they could do to stop them.

But Dr Director didn't want to think about the screaming session she would probably get in a few hours – when her team failed to stop the terror before it ended, which was likely what was going to happen – she just wanted to do her job and relax. She was going to get a day off soon – the very next day, in fact. – and those were rare. – she didn't know what she was going to do yet, probably go out, but she allowed the image of the very next day soothe her as she called one of the teams up and informed them of what they had to do.

"Roger that"

That left her with the plan to form, she looked at the people she had called in for the job. – They were good men and had often worked together – She felt slight guilt for putting them in danger, but the quickly let that guilt pass over her – this was what they had signed up for and they understood the risks. – She looked at the huge amount of paperwork on her desk – Most of it due to damages they had caused while super villains attacked – and tentatively removed one. At least the papers wouldn't scream to her about how her budget should be slashed.

She pushed her eye patch aside, since it was only in homage to Nick Fury, from her days of reading comics, and looked at the papers. 11 hours and 32 more minutes and she'd be done.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting that feeling that you can only get when you sleep in late, Dr Director woke up and spread out her arms, stretching out, and yawning as she did so. She looked at the time, it was almost mid day, she rarely got such an opportunity to sleep in late, but then again, she was jet lagged.

Her house was situated in the Great Britain's islands, and her secret base, where she worked most every day, was situated near Azores. So the difference was minor, only an hour to her regular schedule, but the effects of that hour were clear from the way her grogginess was being revealed. She stretched out again, and looked around, her room, much like her office, wasn't that much decorated, only with a few pictures, her bed and her bedside table. The room was spacious and as such it felt empty, but she enjoyed the sense of space it gave her. She had a clear view, given to her by the windows when she opened her curtains, of the city that spread out under her. She quite enjoyed the view, but she didn't plan to stick to her bedroom or house, in her one and only day of rest.

She went into the washroom to prepare herself for the day ahead, bare necessities done, she looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw, without the trademark eye patch she frequently wore (once again, in reference to a Marvel character), her black eyes stood up against the whiteness of her pupils, her hair, which she hadn't combed yet, fell in soft, gentle streams up to her shoulders, her smile was as white as it was marvellous. She wasn't the vain kind of girl, in fact she wasn't into that makeup nonsense, which was revealed by the near total absence of makeup of any kind in her washroom, but she had to admit, she looked good. She posed with an imaginary gun (not keen on getting a true gun from her gun cabinet, which would take some time), and then she combed her hair. Preparations done she picked an outfit. – Not feminine or revealing in the slightest yet not masculine – And she went out, making sure to "forget" her pager where she had left it, in the small table on the dining room, grabbing only the keys. If someone had a problem they could fix it without her, today she was off schedule and of the job, she was leaving it to the sub-director, and the vice director, to handle any sort of situation that appeared.

She walked through the familiar streets not worrying much about direction or purpose, just enjoying the fresh air. The secret base – which was underwater – was full of air, needed for breathing, but the air was recycled and felt stale. – The air on the city, polluted as it might have been, at least was fresh, to some degree. Her cheeks reddened as she felt the cold air hit her, but she wasn't worried about the cold, by the hour that was, now pass mid-day, she was sure that the weather would heat up at any moment now. In actuality with her thoughts the sun shied away from its cloud coverage to shine on and reflect on the dirty sidewalks and glass panes of buildings. Seeing the sun was rarely a thing for her, as well as the air, underwater the sun didn't reach, much less with all the concrete that had been sunk in to form the base. When she had left for her day off it had already been night, so she enjoyed the beams that went on her face, as well as the heat they provided.

Without a sense of direction the woman found herself into the shady parts of town, she knew what those were – the badly constructed shelters, the coating of paint peeling off in the rare apartment building, the doors that were obstructed or out of place, all the garbage, the disgusting smell... – While she wasn't worried for her own safety, she had protection, even without a gun she was capable of defending herself in several different styles of martial arts, she felt her nose wrinkle at the smell. She tensed up, she had been taught that an opponent could be anywhere, and while she wasn't worried for her own safety, as was previously established, she was much more likely to be attacked here, where any security cameras that could be had been vandalized or painted over with black spray paint, than in the main roads and downtown, with all the pristine buildings. She passed through a shack and she heard the unmistakable noise of things being thrown, identifiable by the sound of the smack against what she presumed was the wall and the swoosh as they flew though the air. She continued walking, cautiously watching where she stepped (for the sidewalk was littered with beams of wood and mud, where nothing should have been)

Despite the hour that was – Early afternoon – No one was in the streets, and besides the occasional throwing of heavy objects and the barking of dogs – Which Betty, the true name of Dr Director shivered when thinking about the conditions they lived in – there wasn't any sound, any cars, or any sign of human life. She felt she was being watched. She passed the occasional rusted car, that if they worked, which she doubted, would be an hazard do any driver on the road, as they might fall apart mid turning.

_The good thing about this desolate and bad part of town_ – she thought as she passed through it – was that they were totally self contained, while they were tolerated by the authorities (who, with the advent of the internet had been pressured into leaving those residents of the slums of town alone, lest them be victims of a witch hunt online) – the authorities had minimized the contact they had with any other residents. Betty had heard the stories, the place was full of junkies and drunks, that couldn't hold a job and would rob you blind for another chance at a drink of booze or a dose of crack. – She didn't know if they were exaggerations but she felt pity for those who lived in such conditions. While she wasn't exactly a millionaire (she felt the huge budget her organization had would be better employed in training and new tech than her own salary) – she still held a steady income every month, to not have it, and to be addicted was, in her own view, a waste. Still though, maybe due to the way she handled herself, or the soft muscles that stood up against the fibers of her shirt, noticeable even at a distance (she was after all in top psychical form), she wasn't being attacked. She crossed the streets without any worries, other than the smell – and everything else – this place was actually sort of tolerable.

She could have just as easily run the distance, but she decided to calmly walk it, she started noticing little details, the smell she couldn't identify at first. The one that made bile come to the back of her throat and caused her nose to wrinkle, it was the smell of unwashed dirt mixed with puke – she knew the smell from when of her agents puked out of exhaustion after an intense training session – she didn't let them take it easy, and held them to high standards. – She wished she hadn't solved the riddle of the smell, it was nauseating just thinking about it. Whomever had puked (and she decided to watch her steps even more closely, not to land on some odd puddle), had done it all over the place and frequently enough that the whole place reeked of it. _The poor bastard must be seriously ill_ – she thought, she was nearly out of the slums though, so she hurried her pace.

Though she would never admit it to anyone, she felt a short sense of relief to be out of that place. It wasn't just the smell that had bothered her and nauseated her, no, it was also the fact that she could have been easily attacked.

She figured she would take the long way around when returning home, so that next time she wouldn't have to pass through that whole place. The weather had started to pick up, and the shadowy places she had passed gave way to sunny, almost hot enough to be bothersome weather, as the streets widened out and the buildings became cleaner and cleaner. She let out a sigh – though she told herself it was of the jet lag from yesterday and not from relief – and she kept on walking. She was nearing the river, she could smell the water and feel the humidity as she approached.

Dr Director had always liked water – though the city's river was polluted beyond measure – so much so that swimming in it was a bad idea – she could see observe it and enjoy the view, instead of clear, pure blue waters, the waters were a murky brown and black, and some objects floated in there – but she let her imagination freely wander and for moments the stains in the river disappeared to give way to waters that would rival the Caribbean ones. She didn't let her imagination float around that often, but when she did, she had such detailed dreams...and visions. She could almost smell and touch the waters. It was a shame though, that they were so unreal, so fake, she didn't let it affect her, but when she turned back to reality, she felt a sense of despair – as quickly swallowed as the guilt from sending her men to attack yesterday – and she shock her head, focusing.

She rarely drank, and she almost never ate properly cooked food, almost always heating up something to bite between files of paperwork, but today she was feeling adventurous, the place she was, near the river, was bound to have some pubs or restaurants that served fish. She had never been much of a fan of fish and chips, traditional as it might have been, but hunger was striking her (she had, after all walked miles, and hadn't had breakfast), and she had some spare cash to burn. She looked around, looking for a pub. One with a good image, not some dirty backwater one that would give her an aching stomach.

She wandered around between all those places, looking for one, finding one that satisfied her needs, she entered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Accidentally posted chapter 10 instead of chapter 4...hope you forgive me**

The place was badly illuminated despite the windows the building had, which were almost all closed due to the drapes being down, from what she could see the counter was meticulously clean, and the chairs were impeccable too, there were some tables here and there, almost placed randomly, not following a pattern. She sat down, she had the day off so why not enjoy it? She ordered an alcoholic drink and a plate of fish and chips. She looked at her wallet, she had more than enough to buy the food and drink.

She was more than a tad light weight, she was a newbie when it came to the drinking game, after that one drink she was feeling a buzz already, one that made her reckless, she ate as she kept on pilling and pilling up the drinks to help bring down the bitter taste of the fish. Someone had over used their vinegar, but she didn't care, with drinks it all tasted the same anyway. She felt like her head was in a higher place, like she was walking on sunshine, a song she sang with all the dignity of a toddler, she also sang the "ooh" parts. She felt like her head was in the clouds and there wasn't much she could properly do. Her eye to hand coordination was off and she felt like she was floating.

The few people who were there snickered at the clearly drunk person, as she entertained them with a off key rendition of several 80's and 90's songs. Betty liked the newer songs as well, some of them, guilty pleasures, but those she couldn't sing, she was being taken back to her days of being a teenager and listening to Michael Jackson and other pop artists. She, even being the head of a major organization for the good of the planet, sang about how bad she was bad (ooh), bad, really really bad she was, and how the kid was not her own.

It had been years since she had had a partner, there wasn't much she could do to gain a relationship when she was off on work for weeks on end, and the rare day off she spent wandering around. Men weren't keen on the whole "disappear" thing, and she couldn't exactly explain where she was going, because it was a secret. So the opportunities were few and far. And they always seemed to assume the worse, almost immediately.

She didn't know what about her frame made people assume she was cheating on them, but as she loudly wondered, giving away too much "I needn't need to know that" information (but not mentioning the secret organization, something she kept , somehow knowing how secretive it was in her drunken state, within herself), people looked on amused, while it wasn't as funny as her off key singing a drunken woman is a drunken woman.

She felt like leaving and she tried to count down how much she had to pay, the waitress, the one that had served her the ridiculous amount of booze, helped her on, not taking advantage of her. Betty dangerously walked, feeling nauseated, and wobbly, she couldn't keep a steady pace and she almost threw up on her way to the streets.

The waitress saw her leave and, feeling a tad of responsibility for the state Betty was in, decided to call her a cab, she had enough (from what she had seen of her wallet) to pay up the fare to any point in the city. She made Betty sit down as they waited for the cab.

Betty sat down head between her knees, feeling the touch of alcohol still in her throat, it burned, and she liked the burn, but at the same time it made her all tingly, and she didn't like those tingles all that much. She felt a chill down her spine, as she rushed to throw down whatever amount of food she had swallowed.

The waitress rolled her eyes, knowing all that vomit would be her burden to clean, but if someone couldn't handle their alcohol it wasn't her fault, she just had to keep on serving as her boss ordered.

"Why doesn't food..." – Betty started, her tone was miserable, her head had started to hurt, and her sense of feeling was off, she couldn't balance herself, and her stomach hurt. – "Ever tastes as good the second time around?" – She finished before puking once more.

The cab finally arrived, the waitress, carefully stepping to not put her feet on the puddle of puke, took Betty and supported her to the cab. The driver warned Betty that if anything went up and she made a mess, she would pay the cleaning of the cab. Betty didn't care she just wanted to go home.

Later on, when she awoke, Betty would have no recollection of what or whom she had done, besides the occasional flash, she saw the cab, the screams of the driver as everything went up, then it cut to her drinking, intertwined with memories of the music video for "beat it", and "Smells like teen spirit" for some reason, and some she was sure weren't real, like Disney buying Marvel, a thing she enjoyed, and then dragging herself to her bed, and falling asleep.

Her head ached like crazy, and the beeping of the pager wasn't helping she got up and looked through the window. No wonder it was so dark, it was night. She knew she had to be ready soon if they were to make the travel back to the secret base, which took several hours, so she would arrive in time.

She felt hungry so she just heated up some of that frozen food and decided to pass herself up. She quickly combed, just to let loose the odd strain on her hair, and then she hurriedly put on her suit. She put the eyepatch, crossing her eye, and she decided to leave.

She had a car, but she didn't feel like driving it. Besides her alcohol levels must have still been too high, she still felt some of the after effects.

They came to pick her up.

"Went partying?"

Betty wasn't one to party, but the driver slash pilot seemed amused

"You reek of it, maybe when you arrive you should take a shower"

Betty nodded, not too hardly, for the frozen food she had heated up still threatened to come up.

"Back to work it is"

They quickly delved into the traffic hurrying up to the helipad.


	5. Chapter 5

A headache...that was what Betty was feeling at the moment. While it didn't come out as a surprise to her...all the times she had drunk, she had suffered the same symptoms of a hangover, it still came out as uncomfortable. It didn't help that this Wednesday – statistically the day with most suicides (and she could see why, knowing she was still in the middle of the week) – Another super villain had decided to attack. She hated Mondays, yes, but Wednesdays? While not as bad, she still knew that she had to work. She left herself remind of what had happened last Monday, as expected she had been screamed at. Between threats to her budget, blaming, and asking just why the "hell" she was being paid for, she had shut herself off the conversation. She knew she had to have patience, but it came to a certain point where that side of the president...the one the common American didn't see, tired her.

And after a day of freedom, returning to the same job was kind of revolting. She looked at all the paperwork she had to do next, one day off and the desk was filled again. 12 hour shifts or no, she needed a secretary. But again, secrecy, and those documents were highly confidential, so there wasn't any chance of that, realistically.

She massaged her temples with her hands as she thought of what she had to do today. Besides planning the defence protocols, paperwork, the inevitable attack, paperwork, budget managing, paperwork, taking that shower and then return to the paperwork, then maybe she could try and release some tension in the fighting rooms.

The headache still bothering her Dr Director tried to focus on the papers...damage reports, laser guns...the words flew in and out of focus as she tried reading. She didn't need glasses, she just wished those words were bigger...to someone with such a bothersome headache, reading fine print and small fonts was, undoubtedly, a pain. She knew that somehow, even though they were printed out in a small size, the letters had filled her desk, and that just made her want to read it even less. The probabilities of there being thousands of words were high, probably in the thousands of percentage.

She focused again, but it was hard, and she tended to lose interest fairly quickly. While she normally had a tight grip on her imagination, she was tired, and that made it double hard to focus.

Her mind wandered and she realised that she likely wouldn't be able to do her job properly that day. For some odd reason she focused on her loneliness...it had been years since she had had a mate, and while she had recollections of having enjoyed those times were they were in intimacy, it had been far too long...but then again, maybe it was for the better.

She was interrupted by the blinking light on the telephone, she mentally cursed, what now? CNN 24 hours was still focusing on a missing plane (something that seemed to be happening more and more frequently). She had already sent a team to the terror attack there wasn't much else that she could do. She picked the telephone...did she really want to pick up the call...then she sighed...did she even have a choice? She pressed the button.

"Yes?" – The exasperation in her voice was plain, but the president didn't care much for it, if he had detected it he didn't let it reveal.

"Where are your men?"

She mentally cursed again, she was near Azores, if the super villain was attacking America how the heck would her team get there in less than 6 or 7 hours, even in their jets? Did the president flunk math at school? She thought it very likely, with how he had studied law and entered politics through it, not through science.

But her scorn had to be reserved to the punching bags in the training room downstairs. Eventually she would get there, for now she had to deal with the president.

Faking a cordial tone she pressed a button and CNN turned into a map of the world, similar to the ones in planes. Every single one of their jets had a GPS system that sent codified messages to inform of their localization, every couple of minutes. Though she already knew the answer, she still looked at it. The little icon showed that team Zeta, the team she had sent, was still crossing the Atlantic.

"They're on their way"

The president huffed like a bull into the telephone, he didn't know why he had called, after all, she always seemed to take too much time, and who was to blame for two attacks in a week? He would take the blame in the eyes of the American people. And he couldn't even blame her because she was technically not under his command. That didn't matter though, a huge part of their funding came from his government and if she didn't start stopping those attacks before they happened, she would lose it.

"Well tell them to hurry up!"

Keeping her tone jovial and warm was hard, she felt the urge to grind her teeth instead, but she managed to, with lots of self control. Stopping the urge to smack down the phone she simply pretended to do that. While all the jets had the ability to be called, she wasn't going to try and break the laws of physics just for the satisfaction of someone with no idea of how they worked.

"They'll try"

Another huff, another urge to facepalm.

"Trying isn't enough, get them here!"

She wondered where the kind hearted all for the people portrait of the president had went, but then she reminded he was a politician, he was used to lying.

Her headache had gotten worse, most prime ministers and presidents had her number (at least in Western Europe and North America), but none bossed her around like the American one.

This was why she hated her job...she needed fun...she needed excitement she needed...companionship.

And this time she wasn't going to get drunk to achieve it.


	6. Chapter 6

He sat at his chateau, glass cup in his hand, sipping his Bordeaux wine, and slowly thinking back to what had happened in the morning.

He had been delightfully quaint in his approach to the attack, he had it all planned out and it was all going according to the plan. His family was not nouveau rich, he had money pits from dozens of small investments his family had done over the centuries, or was he not a Lord? And so, using some of that deep pocket money he had hired mooks to help. Mercenaries, men of war. He should have figured out that while going for gun power was a novel idea that could work, he might have benefited from a more...graceful and subtle approach.

The simian figurine he had wanted had been taken back by that teenager, Kimberly Ann, his sidekick, the idiotic Stoppable, and some kind of rat. He hated how they always seemed to get in his way. And, if that wasn't enough, after he had managed to cause a distraction (putting several people under intensive care), he had been followed by a bunch of Global Justice Agents.

Not even his contacts could tell him who the leader of that organization was...but whomever he or she were, well...he'd like to put a message through his or her cranium, literally. He sipped again while thinking of all the ways he'd use his force and or weapons training to destroy that person.

He'd like that, he'd like that a lot.

"At least I escaped" – He said, to no one in particular, he wondered how his file looked, did they connect the dots and make him one of the most searched persons in the world? Did they know his true identity? If so why hadn't they arrested him?

Questions he decided not to answer as he felt the sleep inducing effects wine always seemed to have on him, on an already tired mind, due to the failed plan, Lord Montgomery Fisk (widely known in the criminal world and on Global Justice as Monkey Fist), let out a snore as he fell asleep, his body softening and adjusting to the smooth cushion where he sat.

His dreams were as confusing as they were weird. He was hanging by his feet and beating on his chest, like some sort of hybrid between a monkey and a gorilla, and he was watching something burn, though he couldn't recognise what it was, he threw himself at it and the flames turned out to be wet. Something was touching him and he discovered that they were removing fleas from his back. While there was no doubt these dreams had a simian and monkey theme, as all his dreams do, he wasn't used to such a weird dream. It continued with a reimaging of the planet of the apes where he was the king of the apes, and the maniac part being underwhelmed by his sinister laugh...then he got back to Egyptian culture where cats were adored, something he hadn't thought about since his school days over 20 years prior.

When he finally awoke he was confused at first, by the lack of light off the window, and by his dream, but within 10 minutes he didn't remember his dream, the dream had left him with a sense of abnormality though...well as abnormal as someone who is obsessed with simians to the point of mutation can be. He picked a documentary of the wall, he had the whole collection on simians and apes from National Geographic as well as other big biology documentaries providers.

He picked one of his favourites about gorillas, he didn't know why, but that kind of ape was on his mind at the time. He didn't know it was because of the dream, since he had forgotten it, but his sub-conscious remembered.

The documentary started with the voice of a narrator describing facts he already knew...he wasn't watching for the facts though, he was watching for the images of the big creature. So majestic...so wonderful...so amazing...

He looked at the grandfather clock on the corner, it was roughly 10 pm, he could very well watch the entire collection and be done within a week...he needed to let the steam cool off before attacking again anyway. The simian figurine must have been reallocated to a new place and he would need to find out where it was...and when he did...well, the figurine would be his one way or the other.

The documentary came to a part about mating habits...gorillas, it seemed had estrus cycles...something female humans didn't have, at least to that extent. Lord Montgomery watched the video and felt a longing for a mate.

It was a longing he had had several times, in fact, he had often searched for a mate, but his...let us call it peculiarities...always led to him having no luck.

Seemingly making a decision out of nowhere Lord Montgomery (or as he liked to be called Lord Monkey Fist), decided to go out and try to convince a lady to come home with him. The thought of just hiring a companion did cross his mind, but it was unthinkable to him, no, monkey fist or no he was charming, he could get company and maybe even more, no? He put on some of his best clothes, ones made out of the finest materials, and which had cost him thousands of pounds and he entered his car and drove away. He didn't know where he was going, but there was bound to be a city nearby.

Usually it was a hired driver that drove him to wherever he wanted to go, but today he had dispensed him earlier than usual, so he now drove. The car – with its automatic gears – was simple to ride but he speed over, impatiently. He was going 40 miles over the speed limit and counting, but thankfully for him he did not find a single speed trap or policeman.

Meanwhile, Betty was being transported home, after some medication she had indulged in, her headache was gone, now her chance for the finding of a mate began.


	7. Chapter 7

She was on a limited schedule, even with her being the highest person in the command chain, if something were to happen while she was away, she would (once again) get the blame. Plus the jet that had sent her home would be there to pick her in a matter of hours. 

It wasn't common for her to return home after only a day in the facilities that, after all, were properly built to maintain a staff feed and well rested, with beds and several fridges, as well as a cook, it just seemed like a waste of the taxpayers money to send herself home every day. Jet fuel wasn't cheap after all, and the pilot slash driver, while on the payroll either way, didn't deserve to be bothered most days, doing the same flight over and over.

Still though, she was feeling peckish, she needed a mate, and when Dr Director put into her mind she needed something then nobody better stand in her way. It had been that determination (coupled with her understanding of people) that had landed her the job in the first place.

As she sat on the jet, which was disguised as a regular military jet, without the secretive logo of Global Justice, since putting it there would defeat the purpose of keeping it a secret, and which was also equipped with the highest of tech in laser weapon technology, she let out a sigh. She didn't know what she wanted in a man, but it wasn't just a one night stand.

She wanted a mate, a lover, a passionate man, someone who was clever, smart, and educated, someone with education and manners, the physical aspect wasn't that important to her, but someone had to fit the mold, no? The jet speed over the Atlantic waters, taking her back to the British Islands and she stifled a yawn. Team Zeta should be going back to the base now. Today had been a mild success, they, with the help of the "amateur" Kimberly Ann Possible, had managed to stop the maniacs from exploding any more buildings, some had been hurt, but that was to be expected. A sad fact it was, but the lives of civilians were always affected by this terror...Betty knew that the commander of the villainous mooks' little operation had escaped, as had been reported, and she wondered who that man could be. There wasn't really a whole lot about it known, since he always made sure to encrypt his payments and not reveal information, lest the operations he pulled be stopped. Realistically speaking they couldn't exactly examine and process every single person who entered or left the country or lived within the country for suspicions. Though the Global's Justice twin agency for America, the NSA, was working on that.

She left herself dribble into the beginning of a restless sleep...when so much of your time is spent travelling between two points you develop a deep understanding of how much time it takes you. The shifts she had to do were of 12 hours each, from 6 am to 6 pm, that, coupled with the 4 hours travel meant she was going to arrive at about 10 pm, 11 pm local time, and, with the bureaucracy of landing, even with her importance, she could add another 10 to 20 minutes to that time. She landed in a military compound, and, with 30 more minutes to arrive at the city, she could expect to be certainly there by midnight. That also meant she had only 3 hours ( midnight, 1 am, 2 am) to get dressed, put on some makeup (something she hadn't done in months, perhaps even years), and find someone, as soon as 2 am hit, just like Cinderella she had to leave, to get on the plane so she could be on the job by 6 am. With the advantage of time zones her time was extended a little, since it was less one hour, at the base, but even so it was a stretch.

That was the disadvantage of not sleeping at the facilities, she would not get a full night's rest, so she tried to sleep on the plane, but she had never been able to, and tonight was no different. She appeared to sleep but resting she was not, her mind kept her on, with the agitation she had.

The plane began it's descent at 11:04 pm, passing over the hills where a cosy little chateau could be seen, as well as other equally enormous buildings sprinkled here and there. The outline of the city was barely visible there at the far edge but, as the plane descended it disappeared from view. They landed and were on the car by 11:21 pm.

She went home and decided not to go too crazy with her outfits...while she had some very nice dresses, for when she was awarded medals and had to greet high ranked politicians who would scoff at her if she showed up without a formal dress, she didn't want to use them, she'd look ridiculous in one. She put on some pants and a shirt, a different one from the one she wore on her day off. At least that way she didn't look too out of place. She double swept the brush though her hair, combing it, and she applied some make up, then it was time to hit the night scene. She grabbed her wallet and a purse and advanced towards the night life, which, due to noise complaints, was far away from residential areas. By 12:48 pm she was at the door to the nightclub she wanted to get into, one she had spent some time in as a teenager, though the management had changed, and so had a lot of things.

She pressed herself forward against the counter, after the events of the drunken Betty mess she wasn't too eager to sip on anything alcoholic, so she refused the drinks men were constantly offering to buy her. That, for some reason, seemed to turn a lot of the men down, as they passed on to easier preys. She examined the situation, used to do so automatically,. The men hunted down women who were tipsy or borderline drunk and offered their "assistance", she knew assistance was code for sex, and she got even more determined not to drink anything alcoholic, lest she make a decision she might regret.

That was when she saw him...


	8. Chapter 8

He wasn't the one that stood up the most in terms of looks...she looked at the shady look the adult male had...in fact he wasn't very dignified at all, he seemed to be hunched over, almost like a monkey, but something about him had caught her attention. She could tell, even from a distance, that his outfit was expensive...maybe even handmade, it contrasted greatly with all the hair he seemed to have coming out of his black gloves. Almost like a damsel from the beginning of the twentieth century, he wore those gloves covering his hands, and, though she couldn't see his hands, she felt like they were likely very strong ones. A lifetime of crime fighting had left her with a bad impression on gloves – which always seemed to help cover up crimes. – But for some reason she couldn't place the type of gloves – very fine ones, expensive ones. – as the type used by burglars and thieves.

He was tall, taller than her, though he was at eye level with her due to the way he stood, hunched over. She could see the colour of his eyes, dark blue, almost as dark as her own black eyes, and she smiled. Girls didn't seem to be paying attention to him, and he didn't seem to be paying attention to them, he was just looking around.

To her it was obvious he was uncomfortable with the place where he was, but at the same time his eyes told her a tale of resolve and determination, he wasn't doing much, just holding a drink, but she didn't held her gaze, keeping it up to a rude degree.

She wasn't looking at him because of his expensive suit, or lack of grace, she was staring at him because frankly...he was a conundrum .– Compared to the people dancing, or the ones getting absolutely wasted, he wasn't doing much, he was only looking around, something you could do anywhere else. Why he was in a discotheque, of all places, was beyond her.

Lord Monkey Fist as he liked to be called felt like he was being watched. This had been a most idiotic idea, for him to come, dressed sharply, and walk between those people...normal people, who didn't share his fascinations and interests, and who seemed bent on consuming more alcohol that he could possibly imagine. He was an old soul, someone with an interest in art and history, this might have been the place to pick up young women, who, while not having estrus cycles, would still want to do intimate practices. But he didn't belong here, he was painfully aware of that. It was late he should probably go back to his chateau and entertain himself with documentaries and books – hopefully enough to ignore his crippling loneliness.

That was when he noticed the looks she was giving him. Truth be told he had noticed that her gaze had fallen up on him before, but had it assumed to be a trick of his mind. But there was no doubt about it now, she was looking at him.

He looked at her psychical features...she didn't look half bad if he could be totally honest, she had what was essential on a female...but he had been fooled in the past. It wasn't just meat he needed, he needed someone who could hold a conversation, someone who opposed him.

Worse than being totally proper though, was being an idiot, if there was one thing Lord Monkey Fisk (or technically Lord Montgomery, as per his legal name) didn't stand was the dumbness of some people.

Still though, if her brain was as flashy as the glimmer in her eyes, he'd have a lot of fun with her. She at least appeared to be modest, most girls in the place wore dresses that left very little to be revealed, she however, didn't.

He hoped she wasn't just as contained as her outfit appeared to make her...he would find himself bored to tears if that were the case. Still though, he didn't lose anything in trying to and try and talk to her, what was the worse thing that could happen?

Reminding himself to try and walk like a vulgar and normal human being, without knuckle walking, something he had found himself doing more and more as time went by, he smiled as he approached. While most apes and simians were herbivores there were some that indulged in the occasional meat meal. Lord Monkey Fist grinned. Much like a hunter chasing his prey, he had his eyes on her, and he was going to go and end this whole thing. He didn't plan on having her if she didn't want to...there were limits even to his dark ways, and respecting the woman was a thing he planned on doing, but he was going to at least try and convince her to come home with him.

How he was going to deal with her when she saw his hands and what they had become...he didn't know, he hoped she wouldn't ran, for he wouldn't pursue, but that peculiarity didn't stop his confident stride to her.

She noticed him looking towards her, and she flattened herself against the surface of the counter. Though she had been definitively checking him out moments ago, she was sort of embarrassed to be caught, and the man coming in towards her was definitively going to talk to her. Despite being the leader of a major organization she felt like a teenage girl, caught looking at her crush. She became as red as she could be, rivalling the flashing lights on a siren, and she tried holding herself in. Confidence was definitively something she did not lack in her day to day life...though it was painfully useless against the monster that was bureaucracy, but now she felt all her confidence drip away.

Physics dictated that the likelihood of her being able to disappear were zero to none, but she wished she could. None of her spy gadgetry was available at the moment, and she wouldn't be exactly be discrete, if she threw a smoke bomb, which she hadn't anyway.

He smiled at her as she looked down, compared to him she was almost petite, he imagined how well their skins would mash, and how he could grab her and...but that wasn't for now, that was for later, if he managed to impress her, which he would try to do.

"Do you fancy a drink?" – He asked the clearly embarrassed and clearly red Betty. He had to admit, the shy, totally not confident girl was making him wonder if he was wasting his time.

Betty managed to gain a small semblance of her confidence and she managed to refuse the drink, stating plain and simply that she didn't "Indulge".

Unsure of what else to say Lord Montgomery thought to step back and let himself be washed away, but Betty, now that she had regained some sense of confident, knew what direction to take.

She smiled – A smile that took Lord Montgomery aback, at how shiny it was under the rotating lights of the place, that just happened to shine on her face. – And she agreed to it...in part.

"No alcohol, but I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee, if you don't mind."

She smiled a second time though this time the light didn't reflect on her teeth, blinding people, and she walked through the door. He followed, unsure of where exactly he could get a cup of coffee at that time of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

They found themselves on a small coffee shop that had a neon sign advertising that it was open 24 hours a day. It was a small, family owned business and it showed, instead of the pre-made, straight from a catalogue, seats and tables, this cafe had a mixture of several kinds and styles of seating, no doubt acquired over the years. Betty thought it gave the little place personality.

The waitress, no doubt one of the daughters of the owners, who seemed to be on her 20's and had a pink streak on her raven black hair, as well as gray eyes, stood there, waiting for them to finish their stifled interactions and order. It was always quiet at this time of the night, most people were sleeping, or partying in a much wilder place than the quiet cafe.

She asked them if they wanted anything, Betty ordered some of the strongest options, and Montgomery asked for a relatively bitter taste of coffee. She nodded as she walked to behind the counter to take off the coffees. When she was done she returned to them, with the coffees in her hand and put them down in front of the two people.

Dr Director mixed her coffee with slow, purposeful movements, the clock on the wall, if it was correct, told her she had little time to fraternize with the man in front of her, which was a shame, she looked on, carefully keeping track of the time, as she didn't want to arrive late to work.

Lord Montgomery looked at the woman in front of him, still wearing his gloves, he tentatively picked up the coffee cup where the coffee had been poured and drank a little bit of it. Not having poured the sugar, he had it like he enjoyed it, bitter. He glanced at the woman in front of him, she was looking at the clock, and she seemed nervous.

"Got a place to go to? You seem anxious"

As with previously, his British accent did get to her, she lived in the British Islands, she was used to hearing it...but it sounded refined as it came out of his mouth.

She pulled a loose strand of hair back from her face and smiled, embarrassed.

"Yes actually, I should really get going"

He was taken aback by this, he had thought the encounter was going smoothly all around, they had agreed on a place, and though they hadn't struck much of a conversation, only their names, Monty having gone with Montgomery as revealing his criminal alias was a stupid idea, and Dr Director having gone with Betty, since her name "Dr Director" was a secret to most.

Despite the stiff and sort of awkward conversations they both had been glancing at one another. Lord Monkey Fist didn't know what to say or do to make her stay, as with previously, he wanted to make sure he could contact her, for, if she really had to leave, they could schedule out another meeting.

She packed the few things she had carried out with her and put on some pence down at the table, then, as if making a split second decision she wrote up a number in a sheet of paper she had, handed it to the man, stood up and left.

Lord Monkey Fist finished sipping on his coffee and looked at the number, it was a number which had the correct number of digits and was very likely to be a real number, he decided he was going to call it tomorrow night, for, if she had to leave now, even if he didn't know the reason, it was no use bothering her. As she left he stared at her, she definitively was worth pursuing, from what little to nothing they had talked about, she seemed clever and interesting.

Betty looked down as she advanced towards home. There wasn't anything secretive about the number she had given the man, it was the number of her "civilian" cell phone. Stricken as she might be for the man (which she wasn't sure she was), she wasn't about to give him a number of the place she worked at...Global Justice had several strong guidelines about it, ones she had made even, and giving out details about where she worked, or any sort of information (which included a number) was strictly forbidden. She wondered, as she crossed the streets back to her own house where she would be picked up – if the strong coffee that she had consumed would be enough to keep her awake throughout the day, if not, well, she could always have another. The medicine she had taken earlier had taken its toll and now she felt slightly tired. She just hoped the coffee's effect would overtake those.

Lord Monkey Fist stood there and smiled at the waitress as he put down a few pence of his own on the table. He rarely carried with him such meagre coins, normally walking with the high pound bills, but he figured the drinks were going to be cheap. He had been right, of course, he told himself how he was right most of the times, and that made him smile even more. He grinned as he paid his bill (the one he had to pay, not the money ones), and, as he left he walked right to his car, which he had left in the parking spots nearby. He entered the fast, ferocious, refined car and drove off, barely paying attention to the road and, instead, focusing on the woman he had met she would be his little mating partner, he was sure of it.


	10. Chapter 10

Dr Director had never thought that a man was what was necessary for her life to be complete...that idea, which was inserted into the society she lived in, was one she totally opposed. She was successful at her job – even if she got yelled at pretty frequently – had money to spare (though she wasn't rich) and, while she didn't go out very frequently, when she did, she always had a good time, as long as drinks weren't involved in the process.

Then she had given her civilian number to a random man she had met while out. The man had seemed charming and particularly clever, from what little talk they had had, but maybe she had precipitated herself. She couldn't deny that she had hurried up in giving him her number, they had only exchanged a couple of sentences.

That was what she was pondering of as she kept on looking at the paperwork she had all around her. It had only been 12 hours, but she was already behind again on paperwork, which had stacked on, being printed and delivered to her office from the mailing room (an archaic term for what was basically a room with several hi-tech laser and 3d printers), she wrote down numbers and made several mental calculations, which she then confirmed with a Texas Ti-calculator. Her job involved a lot of numbers, and she was good at math, having obtained outstanding grades back in the day, so she did it as a challenge to herself, even if it boggled down her speed at the job.

No super villains appeared to be attacking today and she was glad for it. While the coffee had done its job – at first – she now had had all the caffeine processed and sleep was getting to her, but if she were to fall asleep – something she didn't want to do at all – she would never hear the end of it.

She stifled a yawn as she looked at all the paperwork she had to do. Those jobs of hers, the ones where she was responsible for operations, were exciting, but the amount of paperwork made her feel like she was retracing old steps, and she wasn't advancing. It didn't help that they were almost always the same forms, day and day again.

She found herself wondering if Montgomery...a Lord of all people...would call her, she didn't know if she should wait such a thing but she had, after all, given him her number, today she was staying in the tower...there was just no way she could keep on not sleeping at all...but maybe they could schedule something for very soon, or soonish, she still had a ton of work to do.

Her civilian cellular phone had no tracking, it was a necessary feature due to the secrecy of her job, and all the calls were bounced around as an extra measure of safety. She could still receive calls but it took a while longer for the signal to reach her. It wasn't a problem though, as the differences, with the technology's speed, were minimal and almost non noticeable. She checked the mobile phone. It was fully charged and yet she had no messages or calls...then again the only numbers which she had as contacts were her mother, her father, and the national emergency number for the Uk. She knew, in her memory, the numbers to the governors, queens, and presidents of several countries, but those she kept of her appointment notebook and mobile phone, for obvious reasons. But it wasn't one of them she wanted to be called by, heck no, she wasn't sure she knew at all whom she wanted to be called at. Sure Lord Montgomery seemed nice, but a quick internet search for him pointed to an noticeable lack of information on him, for a Lord at least. All it contained was just his position on the House of the Lords and a brief Wikipedia article which told him where he had graduated at as an archaeologist.

That was interesting, he had seemed much more interested in biology than properly history...she made sure to take note of that to mention it to him as soon as they met again. She had to be very discreet though, not to make him aware she had "googled him" on Google. But one of the good things about being a spy was that she knew how to be discreet, and she planned to use that sneakiness on him.

Dr Director observed the huge stack of paperwork – that threatened to tumble over and cause a mess of papers – and she picked one again, she automatically did what was expected, since, this form she had filled several dozen times in the last few months, and she left her mind wander off. It was always harder to keep her mind from wandering off when she was tired and, not having slept, she was definitively tired.

Lord Montgomery, from what little information she could gather without going into the deeper recess of the web, had an archaeology degree – even though Wikipedia wasn't the most reliable of sources, she dared to believe it. – he also appeared to have an interest on simians and apes. That she had noticed herself, and needed no searching of the web to discover. She wondered what kind of thing she should mention to gain his interest in herself.

She looked at the telephone, the civilian mobile phone, and the pager. None of them had rung yet, and, though she hoped the civilian one rung at least soon, the others could very well stay quiet for all she cared, in fact, she really hoped they did. It wasn't like she had anything to gain if someone were to scream at her, except perhaps a headache.

She checked the hours again, and sighed, though she still had several hours to go, and the day was just paperwork without an attack of any kind, she wished it would be all over for the day so she could sleep. Another yawn, she was pretty tired.

She hoped Lord Montgomery would call her soon.


	11. Chapter 11

He pondered heavily if he should call her. Telephone in hand, ready to have the numbers inputted, he wondered if she would be interested at all in him. She had...after all, abandoned their meeting at a time where things had gotten awkward. Maybe she had a job that involved entering at ridiculous hours of the night, he didn't know, or maybe she was just avoiding him, Lord Monkey Fiske certainly hoped that that wasn't the case, but he couldn't deny that that was a possibility.

And then again...he looked at the piece of paper where the number was...even if he called he could still be rejected - though he didn't see why she would have given him her number just to reject him. Maybe due to a unknown kick she'd get out of it? He didn't know.

That was what made him ponder if he should call, it was, after all, just a simple call, input the several digits and wait. It was night already, the time he had told himself he would call, but the hesitation was clear. She had said yes at first but now...what if she said no?

Lord Montgomery Fiske (or Monkey Fist) decided that that didn't matter, he had to try and call her, or wasn't he a Lord after all? Everything he had wanted he had pursued, and, though if she rejected him that would be the end of it, he had to at least try.

And if he was rejected...well he could hunt for another mating partner, another one to remove the figurative fleas out his back.

He looked at the numbers, in that ripped out sheet of paper, and memorised them, they were, of course, a simple number for his superior (in his own words) brains, as he stood there and started up the telephone. Dialling the numbers in and waiting for the signal to pick up he briefly sighed as the signal got stronger. He knew it would take several seconds to the moment where she would pick up, and those brief moments were killing him, not literally of course, but he felt the anxiety in his stomach.

It hadn't always been this way, of course, he'd never been one to obsess himself with females of any kind...but that girl...Betty, well she had something in her that he couldn't explain but he liked in her. It was something amazing, something incredible, it was something that got him to spend his not so hard earned money calling her.

Love had been a theme that he had studied when taking his degree, the amount of treasons, backstabbing by lovers, and all around death revolving around love or an affair, recorded in written history, was, frankly overwhelming, but he had never thought he would see just why it was so strong. He didn't know if this feeling he felt was love...not now at least. But, whatever it was, it was a very strong, very deep feeling, one that affected him deeply.

He longed to play with her, to toy with her like a cat with a mouse, but not just to manipulate her, he longed to care for her, to help her get a steady life. From what little he had seen of her, she seemed to have been pressured by something – someone even, to stick to a schedule. – As a Lord he had no such concerns or worries. He had the requirements of his position , sure, but he still enjoyed a lot of free time he used to toy around with the world, being a super villain. He didn't know if she'd enjoy being his villainess with him. But, if she didn't, he was sure he would be able to keep it a secret.

The number was still dialling itself, and a "beep" could be heard, one ring, two rings, he frankly awaited the moment where she would either pick up the phone and talk to him, or ignore the phone.

About 2700 kilometres away, a restless Dr Director lay in bed, awaiting the call, as much as she turned and twisted in her bed, which was comfortable as could be (after all agents did need their rest), she wasn't able to go to sleep. The anxiety was getting to her. Would Lord Montgomery call her?

As soon as the civilian phone, which she held near her pillow, rang, she hurried up to catch it. The number was an unknown, but the few people which had her number made it a certified guarantee that it was either his mum or Lord Montgomery. As much as she loved her mum, and loved talking to her (though she had to lie about her job, to protect her), she was also hoping for Lord Montgomery. Knowing the number was an unknown, and not recognising it, unless her mother had swapped cell phones, it was definitively Lord Montgomery.

She picked it up on the third ringing.

"Good night?"

Lord Monkey First's British accent perked up Betty as she recognised the voice she had repeated so many times in her head, so as to have it memorized. She almost let out a squee of satisfaction before controlling herself. Head of a major organization, she needn't act like a teenage girl.

"Good night"

Lord Monkey Fist stared at his telephone as the voice of Betty came out the other end, he appeared to have scored a real number to the person he had been talking to last night. It was truly the voice of Betty, even if mildly muffed by the distance and the connection. He approached the end of the telephone to his mouth, since his telephone was one of the oldest models still available to buy, and had the familiar boomerang shape, and he talked into it. Despite the years the telephone's microphone was still very perceptive, as it caught every word he muttered.

"How is the miss today?"

The question didn't catch her off guard but she felt like responding was of importance.

"Or rather...tonight?"

Betty smiled as she fidgeted the fingers on one of her hands and talked with the telephone the other hand was grabbing

"I'm alright, thank you..." – She left out a brief pause to recover her breath. – "And you?"

Monkey Fist, Lord, felt like his years of education, done by her mother and father, that had sadly passed away, would finally be of use. To charm the woman with whom he was talking to, his education would be useful.

"I'm fine, actually..." – He too, paused his speech mid sentence – "I was actually wondering if you'd be interested in going on a...I think the young people of today call it a date? Would you?"

A single "Oh" came out of Betty's mouth, before she regained control of herself. It wasn't unexpected if she had thought it through, it was the formality and procedure to follow...a follow up encounter to the first one...while their time had been cut abruptly by her responsibilities, she couldn't deny she had had a satisfactory, if not good time.

Then reality came back to her, she was tired, she was over 1500 miles away, there was no way she was ever going to reach him in time for a date that night, she had to refuse.

She had a fake life planned out in case she'd ever get in a relationship, some type of job that required her to be out of the country for a lot of time. That profession, a flight stewardess, complete with fake papers on an airline and fake check book, was registered to take her to Azores every night.

"I can't, I'm sorry, work"

Lord Monkey Fist looked at his hands, controlling his anger, if the woman was working, there wasn't much he could do. He reminded himself that people born in lower social classes had to work in order to pay up normal commodities he took for granted.

He stopped a sigh, a sign of weakness, from coming out of him and looked back.

"Alright, would it be possible to schedule it for a day where you are free?" – Lord Monkey fist didn't fancy waiting, it wasn't in him to be patient, but for her, he could wait, his little mating partner would be worth it.

Unaware of the creepy thoughts permeating through Lord Montgomery's mind Betty agreed to it, scheduling it for 3 weeks from that day.

She just hoped that she wouldn't regret herself.


	12. Chapter 12

The three weeks had passed with an astounding speed. Dr Director had had plenty of screaming sessions directed at her. Lord Montgomery had had himself, too, plenty of misadventures, though he mostly kept to his chateau. Both, however, held the date three weeks from then (and then less and less time as the days passed) as a high point for their month.

The days seemed to pass quickly, through Betty's tiredness and irritable attitude and Monty's consuming of wine. He abstained however, on the day of the encounter.

It was Betty's day off and she woke up to a stellar sun. She had been so tired when she had arrived into her home that she had just plunged into bed, not bothering to close the drapes. Now the sun tickled her face as it made the clarity be too high to get any further sleep. Betty stretched out, testing her movements and got up. Today was the day. She smiled.

Lord Montgomery had been awake for several hours now, too anxious to sleep. He never got anxious...he was a confident man, so the sensation was new to him. He didn't like it. Not one bit. He sighed as the sun got further up and up in the sky. It was day already; he should get up now, despite how tired he was.

Doing just that he stood in front of the old silver mirror in his bedroom and he looked at the bags under his eyes. A restless night wasn't common for him, who drank himself to sleep in some nights, or had an easy time falling asleep otherwise. Today had been different. This girl, the woman, the feelings he was experiencing for her, it was something else from what she was used to, entirely.

He hadn't felt that way since...he chided himself. Now wasn't the time to think of old crushes and ruined relationships... – he took it upon himself to get groomed, and to put on his gloves. He wasn't being totally honest with Betty, about his peculiarities, but he reckoned he'd be when they were closer. Too many women had fled on light of his unique hands to count, and he wasn't going to risk it with Betty...they had planned a lunch and he wasn't going to miss it. Thought it was only roughly 10 am, he called his driver, ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Betty felt great, she had had a good night's rest and she was going on a date with one interesting man who was also a Lord. Not that she cared about titles, she was not so frivolous, but it was always exciting going on a date.

Many years had passed since the times where she would go on dates on movies and cinemas and the like. She hadn't had a relationship in years. Now that was (maybe) about to change, and she felt great about it.

It was 10:30 am when she last looked at her clock, before leaving to get her hair done. Normally she wouldn't care about such details but she wanted to look her best. 

Lord Montgomery awaited the hour, nervously glancing at the clock. He was all ready to leave, and boredom was taking hold of him, as well as severe nerves as he awaited it. The clock seemed to move as slow as molasses in January, and he impatiently waited.

Betty too awaited the hour as the hairdresser moved around and touched her hair moulding and cutting it in places. It had gotten a bit too long as she had awaited for a day off to cut it, and now it was the time, just before her date. The snip snip of the scissors as they cut away was soothing her. She trusted this hairdresser, which had done her hair several times before. She knew that, if she were to impress the man, she had to look her best. Not that that was what her life goal was...she was successful in several areas, after all, but it was nice having a companion, and Lord Montgomery might just be it.

Lord Montgomery watched as the clock slowly moved, there was no doubt the clock was right, it had been crafted by experts, and had cost a fortune, but the seconds seemed to pass along slowly. He remembered a saying he had learned in school. That time was relative, and he cursed at the concept of relativity. He wanted to meet her for lunch and he wasn't going to just stand there and wait idly.

He looked at the things he owned...possessions, none of that granted him happiness. He had the whole monkey business, which he was obsessed with, and though he still thought apes and simians to be formidable, he now saw Betty as a more pressing matter. He guessed he could still finish watching that documentary, though he'd seen in plenty of times before.

He clicked the movie logo, after he put the disk into the player, and awaited, skipping past the scenes he'd already seen. He had passed the mating bits, and now was watching the raising of a family.

Lord Montgomery knew he had to have kids eventually, to pass his lineage and to continue into the House of Lords and, despite how he'd never mention it, if he wanted to get a kid with Betty, he'd have to hurry. Now that he was thinking so far ahead. Betty was gorgeous, to him at least. She was interesting, and she was formidable, but it had still been only an awkward encounter. Lord Montgomery, as he watched, thought to himself that the encounter for lunch, that afternoon, would direct how things went. He hoped it went well.

Betty was done. And she had been brushed from all the fallen hair on her neck and back. She was ready to leave and go to the date. The hairdresser had taken her time, claiming that she couldn't rush perfection, and while Betty liked her hair, she didn't know if perfect was the way she would describe it.

She hoped Monty would like it.

They both left towards the chosen restaurant, a high class one Montgomery had offered to pay for.


	13. Chapter 13

Dr Betty director wasn't easily amazed, she had, after all ,seen plenty of stuff in her life. From super villain attacks to the small joys of life, she hadn't long had the feeling of getting impressed in a positive manner, the only thing impressing her being the malicious nature of humans. But this was...she was speechless; it was almost like when she had been a child and had dreamed about being a princess. The whole place was filled with regality, with charm, with expensive decorations and, by the looks of it, delicious food. She took in the smells that came from the kitchens, they were no doubt appealing.

She wondered, was this what a Lord's life was like? The treatment of respect? The joyous and tasty meals ? The classy life? Lord Montgomery was charming, and if this was how he had been raised then it was no wonder, it all seemed too good to be true.

Giving her his arm Montgomery smiled, as he saw how impressed she was with things, in her air stewardess (or so he thought her job to be) employment she probably wouldn't have many chances to life the high society life. This had been one of the reasons he had taken her into this place. Impressing her with his care and education was all fine and good, but showing her the benefits of dating him...a rich man, was one of his secondary objectives. He wanted to make sure she got with him, despite the awkwardness of the first encounter.

Betty however, wasn't frivolous enough to be with a man only for social benefits, and while this reminded her of when she helped out middle eastern rulers, who were given to expenses, she needed to get a hold of herself. Her mouth was hanging open in a not so pooch manner, and she was self conscious about it. She had been staring at everything like a child, with open curiosity, and she could hear some sort of giggles from the companions of the business man who had picked this restaurant.

She got a decent salary, sure, but she had the impression she'd ruin herself if she were to try and pick this kind of restaurant to eat regularly. Lord Montgomery must have been a real millionaire, or even a billionaire, if he was to spend his money so carelessly, even more so on her.

It was flattering that he would do this for her, and spent such a crazy amount of money on his date with her, she couldn't help but feel good about herself when she examined herself to ask, what had he seen in her?

Montgomery looked at the woman he planned to impress that day with a small hint of amusement on his face, the smile still strong. S had taken care of her hair and she looked astoundingly good. He voiced his thoughts on her looks with a smooth tone that was helped by his British accent. Betty smiled too, embarrassed, it seemed that taking the time to look nice had paid off.

They sat down at one of the tables and Betty's eyes widened as she stared at the prices in the menus, she blushed, she had deduced it would be expensive, but this...this was almost too much. She spent less in food in a month than what a meal would cost though that wasn't saying much, seeing as the cafeteria in the headquarters served delicious food for free, and she was there almost every day, still, it was ridiculously expensive!

"What would the lady desire?" – the head waiter asked. He had recognized Lord Montgomery and he knew he must be full of Pounds.

"Oh". .. – Betty had been so focused on the prices she hadn't even looked at the meals, she looked at the names, most of them in French. Luckily , as the head of a major organization she spoke French, so she could understand the names. She made her order and Lord Monty did the same. The waiter then went to fetch their orders as they made small talk.

"So..." – Lord Montgomery knew in order to seem polite and gain her attention, he'd have to talk about himself and listen her talk about herself. – "Is your job going alright?"

The question took Betty by surprise, the last thing she needed to talk about was her job. But she'd humor him, if that was really his question.

"It's going alright, it is sort of tiring moving from Azores to Britain every night, but I can handle." – She used her fake life as an excuse, she couldn't and wouldn't tell him about her real life. – "I mean it keeps me busy, at least."

Lord Montgomery was interested in the civilian life of Betty. Unfortunately that was also the area where she was less blessed, her life being only work, work, and work.

"But let's not talk about work..." – She paused and looked around, nervous, she was a good liar, but she was sure Lord Montgomery would catch her lying if she kept at it, seeing as lies were just like snowballs, they kept getting bigger and bigger. – "What do you do for a living? Judging by the prices of this restaurant, whatever you do must be pretty profitable."

Lord Monty thought back to what he truly did, as a super villain, all the while Betty waited for the response she knew already, having searched him online previously. Montgomery, as much as he'd love to be honest, couldn't, without scaring her off, so he just told her about his heritage.

Betty raised her eyebrows like it surprised her, and she faked a tone of excitement.

" A Lord..." – She didn't feel too excited about it, having known about it for a while, but faking it was a necessity. – "You must have women throwing themselves at you then..."

Lord Montgomery grimaced, that was a sore spot for him, the only relationship he had had that had been serious had b...He chided himself again. He wouldn't think about it now. Not when he had such a marvelous woman in front of him.

"Not as many as you'd imagine...in fact I am pretty lonely."

Betty wasn't expecting that tone from him, he wasn't being disrespectful or rude or anything, he was just sad...the mere tone alone was depressing her.

"Well then..." – She paused as if waiting for the right moment to tell him something. – "So am I..as you can imagine not many men are thrilled to date someone who has to leave most nights and stick away from them for weeks."

It was true, that was the main issue she had, she too lowered her eyes, and stared at the table as if particularly interested in it. The food was almost there, and Lord Monty used the space between them, for there was only a table decoration there, to put his monkey hands over hers, covered by gloves still.

They looked at one another and smiled, Monty felt like his heart was thumping, he had acted on instinct and he hadn't know if he was doing the right thing, but seeing her smile at him confirmed it for him.

The food arrived and they ate in silence, there was no need for words, only small smiles between sips. They felt really close to one another.


	14. Chapter 14

Lord Monkey Fist, or as he was known to Betty, Lord Monty, felt the oh so familiar longing for a mate, and the longing for its natural and rational conclusion. It would seem that Betty was willing, as they had shared a very close and intimate moment over lunch.

He wasn't a man...well man-monkey to go partying in discos or do other outlandish night activities. And while as a younger man he had enjoyed his Bourbon, Liquor, and all kinds of booze, his taste buds had refined over the years, making him not too much of a fan of the disgustingly cheap drinks available at local bars.

But that wasn't important right now, for the high emotions felt by him, Lord Montgomery were intense as they could be. He had pushed her gently into the fast car of his, their bodies growling and pushing against one another and he had told the driver, which he had assigned to wait, to head straight to his Chateau. He figured if Betty thought the restaurant had been exuberant the big mansion where he lived would leave her absolutely astounded.

As the speedy car roared across the roads in the direction of the Chateau, Betty and Montgomery explored each other's body, feeling and touching themselves in manners that wouldn't be appropriate neither to a Lord, nor to a High Ranking member of a Secret organization.

Although their kisses weren't tongue ones, and they just explored each other with intensity through their upper clothes, not doing anything indecent, Monty too much of a gentleman not to, and Betty unsure of herself, the relationship was making both of them crave more. The automobile was luxurious not only in speed but also in space size, so they had plenty of room to do whatever their hearts might desire, the possibilities of doing it in the fast moving vehicle, not to mention the undeniable fact of the motion and rumbling of the powerful engine, made it an uneven and bumpy prospect.

They couldn't wait, then to arrive at the Chateau. The tour of the house could be scheduled for later, Monty had his sights on the enormous bed in his bedroom. Throughout all the kissing, though he couldn't deny that his thoughts were flashed back to other...womanly touches he had had over the years.

It was quite a non gentleman thing to do, compare the current woman being kissed to another ones he had had relationships with earlier...but he couldn't quite avoid it. He had to admit though Betty's soft lips were among the best he had ever had, and her arms, wrapping themselves across his body. His body felt soft, not like how he had been some months ago...he shuddered, that hadn't been very nice. Being aware of everything, but not being able to move...not to mention the itches in the most uncomfortable of places.

The two touched themselves feeling closer and closer to one another. Betty hadn't had a mate in so long, and Lord Montgomery was no different. They felt this very intense feeling in between their hearts. Betty had to admit, she had liked the lunch, which had been delicious, but she had liked the man even more. Montgomery was a true gentleman, a true educated fellow who respected her boundaries.

Not that it would seem that way with the way she was being touched, but the touches felt good and she didn't want them to stop. They were still over the clothing but she had a feeling they wouldn't be, in a very soon amount of time.

Lord Montgomery felt himself almost bust, as his heart figuratively increased in size. Despite the awkwardness of the first encounter, they had had an excellent second encounter, and now they were in the way to a relationship. Lord Betty grinned as she took the kisses and kissed back. She never would have thought things would move so fast, but here they were, moving at a more than steady speed.

The Chateau was already in sight and they momentarily stopped to appreciate the large build of it. Lord Montgomery gave his hand to the lady he had spent the last minutes of his life kissing, directing her directly to the entrance.

She observed the things as they walked, amazement on her eyes...as she had predicted Lord Monty was loaded...full of cash to burn...but she didn't care for that. They directed to themselves to his bedroom, where the night had been undoubtedly leading them.

Betty sat down at his bed, bouncing up and down slightly in the comfortable mattress. The bed was made, Lord Montgomery having predicted a possible relation and having done it. He slowly looked at her, they were close, closer than he had been to a woman in a long time, so he hoped she wouldn't run when he showed her his...peculiarities.

She smiled at him, encouraging him as they sat side by side, he had always loved his bed, so so comfortable, and today was the moment he had been longing for. He slowly removed his glove, unsure of her reaction, but hoping for the best. She stared at the removal of the gloves, and looked at the monkey paws he had. An "Oh" look on her face, as her mouth opened in the shape-

Betty was a pretty smart woman, she was putting two and two together. She was the leader of an organization dedicated to stopping super villains and there was one which was monkey related. Monkey Fist.

She, aware of his real name of Montgomery Fiske saw the anagram, and she wondered how she hadn't seen it coming a thousand miles away. Lord Mont...well Monkey Fist observed her with a curious look on his eyes, awaiting her reaction. She knew they were opposites...and she would have to stop him eventually...maybe even now.

Montgomery looked at her awaiting a reaction, seeing her without one he put one of his hands...one she could feel the fur in, against her cheek. He slowly went in for a hug and she allowed it.

Betty was unsure of what to do...sure she had only interacted with him once or twice...but she cared for him, and to learn he was a super villain...well she was unsure of what to do.

Instead of continuing with the kissing sessions she told him, uncertain of herself...

"Look Monty...we need to talk"


	15. Chapter 15

Dr Director had a vast array of connections, but none could help her prepare for what she had in her front. A super villain, one of the most wanted men in the world. He was dangerous and, though she wasn't worried, knowing very well how to protect herself, she still needed to make a decision.

She had told him they needed to know, but how even start a subject like this? How do you tell a super villain you know of their misdeeds? A potential love interest that it's your job to stop their passion and arrest them?

There was no clear answer and that clearly bothered Dr Director. Betty didn't know what to do. Truly she was bound by her morality to turn him in, it was also her job...but yet she couldn't help but feel an attachment to this man, the one who had shared so much with her.

It wasn't an easy call in any way, and she hated to have to weight in the options, but what could she do? She had responsibilities she couldn't escape, no matter how much she tried.

Montgomery sensed her hesitation, as well as the shifty look in her eyes. Betty was a very good actor, but he could see through her body language just how upset she was...This is what he had feared, his hands...those freakish things he so loved...they might have upset her. He slowly moved a hand to her cheek, caressing it.

It weren't the hands that were the problem, but rather his actions...she had to make a call, and though his hands felt nice against her cheek, she knew she had to turn him in. The man deserved an explanation at least.

"Look...Montgomery" – Every word came as a shard of glass through her throat, she really didn't want to do this. Though she really had no choice. He had hurt a lot of people, and it was only fair the reckoning came to him. Through her (shaky) hand if need be. And it really seemed as if needed be.

Her hesitation was clear and she took her time finishing up her sentence. She couldn't predict just how he would react to being rejected. Though she sincerely hoped he reacted well.

"...this isn't going to work." – There she had said it, by the look on his face his heart was broken. It made her eyes almost water. The man didn't deserve this. – No, he deserved it, she reminded herself, as she remembered some of the calamities he had committed.

If she was so sure he deserved it though...why did it hurt so much to look at him? Couldn't her brain wrap around the idea that he was a bad guy? That it was her job to stop him?

She had decided already, she'd wait a couple of days while she got the papers for it, then she would capture him. It was only fitting.

That feeling of tightness around her neck, still persisted. She could see that Montgomery was preparing to talk. He had one finger pointing up and his mouth open. Whatever he was going to say, he seemed to change his mind, as he closed his mouth again.

He gulped, and the look on his face almost melted Betty's resolve...but no she couldn't. She controlled her respiration and held steady. She didn't go out with criminals, no matter how nice they had been to her.

He seemed to keep on hesitating on whether or not to talk, she was honestly getting kind of tired of it. Couldn't he get on to the point? She owed him that much, letting him talk to her one last time.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out." – He finally said, surprising Betty. She had seen him as a very educated gentleman, but when the revelation arrived at her mind she had expected him to completely fillip in seconds. Not so much, he was holding himself remarkably well. Then again, he was a Lord, he'd probably been very well educated.

He smiled, a smile that sent shivers down her spine, though she knew she wasn't in any danger, even if Montgomery...well Monkey Fist, knew some moves, so did she.

"I'm thankful for the few moments we spent together..." – He continued, and she smiled, agreeing, as she nodded. – "And I hope you had fun. Do you need a lift to your place?"

Not only was he totally fine with her leaving him hanging, she also offered her a ride home. He was truly a gentleman. She was surprised, but she hoped it didn't show too much as she smiled. The blush on her cheeks would tell otherwise though.

She hesitated, wondering if it was a bright idea to reveal her place of residence to a super villain. She liked Montgomery, she really did, but knowing his true identity...she just had to refuse.

All the while she couldn't exactly call her driver...not many flight attendants had private drivers, and it would be suspicious if one just showed out of nowhere. She'd have to walk.

She sighed as she left, thankfully she hadn't indulged in any alcohol. She was dozens of miles away, but she'd manage to arrive. Monty watched her leave with resignation. It seemed she had been affected by his hands and feet.

A shame...but he couldn't let her just walk away into the night, who knew what dangers awaited her? She seemed fit, but nobody really knew what could be awaiting them at night.

He stopped her, and made her sit in one of the comfortable main halls couches. They were indeed very comfortable. She almost fell asleep on one of them. Monty was calling the cab company. Requesting a cab, she smiled warmly, he did take care of her. She drifted off to a restless sleep while awaiting, she had no dreams, and when she woke up she felt like she hadn't had any sleep. But it didn't matter.

She wasn't very glad with how the situation had turned out but – As she entered the cab which smelled of smoke and old leather. – She figured it was for the best. A shame for Monty though, he seemed to have had everything to have a good life, if he hadn't been obsessed with simians.

As the vehicle moved she pondered on just what exactly she was going to do. She remembered one of the things her mother had told her "Your eggs aren't getting any younger..." and that had been years ago.

It was true, though, she wasn't getting any younger, she was a strong woman, independent, but she had really hoped this would work.

She bit down on her lip, trying not to cry.

:  
:

Doctor Director sighed. She couldn't exactly do her job like this. Too many thoughts on her mind.

It had been this way since she had left in the cab. In the beginning as the vehicle advanced she had fought with herself. Maybe she could return? It wasn't like the people affected were directly related to her in any way, but she knew better. Her conscience wouldn't allow it. Dr Betty Director had a very big sense of morality, one that knew very well what was wrong and what was right.

And stealing ancient artifacts', attacking people in the process and overall just look for the ultimate goal of any super villain. – That was. – World domination...well that was just wrong. Dr Betty Director didn't like the evil doers.

And it was such a shame to her as well, the man had been polite...the man had been charming...the man had been a lot of things that she was looking for in a man...or man ape...or monkey...simian? She was the leader of an international organization, not a biologist.

Though she looked at the amount of crimes in the file she had on him. The picture they had taken was a blurry mess, it showed a mass of limbs, monkey limbs, all furry, as they shifted and attacked random people. Nasty animals, Betty thought they were, if what she had remembered about them from her childhood was true, she heard they even threw dejects at one another, though they were clever.

And cleverness was something that the possible romantic interest, now turned down had on him...the man had had an easy life, she had no doubt of that, he was a Lord after all, but he didn't seem to be as snobbish as some of the politicians and important people he had met.

Maybe that had been why she had been so ok with meeting him...he had been...and she let out the word...nice. – She stared at the blurry photo, again, the man, though it contrasted greatly with his urge for world domination, had been so polite to her. It was like he was going for a position of power, but he was treating people nicely all the way to the top, unlike the person who...

Speaking of the devil the telephone atop her desk rang. And she picked it up, aware that she was about to get her ears filled with yelling. In a way she pictured the president of the free word, whom she was just thinking about it, in the other end, spitting at the telephone.

She almost snickered at the thought, but managed to keep her composure. Laughing at the person who funded most of your organization was a sure fine way to lose most of their funding.

This was her routine, and she was used to it, so it was nothing new to hear about how she was failing at her job. That didn't mean however that it wasn't a frustrating experience to hear it over and over. Especially when she felt that she had more important things to worry about. If before she was worried about her chance at finding a man, she now was finding it harder to get over it.

That pesky conscience had made the decision for her however and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I understand sir." – She did understand, apparently things were getting spotty, and she was in a world of sh...Trouble, she corrected herself. Though she was an adult, she didn't like to swear much.

The voice on the other side of the line sounded distant, cold, so unlike the warm voice of the politician when facing the general public.

"I expect you to." – And in a second the voice had returned to it's usual warm tone, one tone that had made the president be compared to a kind old man. – "Now...if you'd please..."

Betty sighed, of course she'd please, he was one of the major people paying her salary, wasn't he? Of course he'd go and have his way done, just like he wanted to.

Betty looked at the paperwork that had, once again, stacked up, could she not leave for a day and get herself some rest? It didn't seem that way.

She remembered back when she had been a young agent...maybe she was getting old. Maybe that was the problem. What was there left to climb? And as her mother had said her eggs weren't getting any younger.

She had to give the go ahead to go and capture Lord Monkey Fist, it'd be quite the scandal, and she was regretting the kind of headaches it'd cause, both for her and for her organization. Still super villains were hardly ever common petty crooks, with little resources, they had to buy the trips, and secret lairs and all that it enthralled. They needed money, and, as a result, most of them had it. Whether stolen or not.

It looked like Montgomery...she corrected herself, - Monkey Fist had earned his money the old fashioned way, inheriting it. Whatever the case as a family of renown she knew he was going to drag this out on the courts.

And then what? What was even her accusation? They didn't just take him without a judgment, or a court hearing or two, they had to follow the legal procedures. And what did it mean?

All would be over when people saw his monkey hands, how many people could have those? But still, she regretted having to do this. There was no choice however, she looked at the long list of crimes assigned to his name.

Guess she could add heart-breaking to it, for her heart was definitively broken. The man had succeeded in making her feel even worse about herself.

She pressed the number, and made the call.

:

They were dancing the waltz.

She recognized the localization, it was the chateau at which she had been briefly. Betty didn't know just how she had been there.

Nor why she was grabbing the other person, the man, which she was calling Monty, under the flickering lights.

It felt right, it felt good, but she knew it not to be true.

It was the interesting part about all of this, she knew that, in large part due to her own doing, the man was locked up, and not with her, in his house, dancing the waltz.

But it felt great as she felt the furry hands against her own, the feeling of the lights. It reminded her of the movies she had watched as a kid, animated or otherwise. And though she didn't exactly like the idea that a woman was defined by romance, she had a satisfying career...she had to admit, this wasn't so bad.

She knew it to be a dream, but she knew she'd miss monty, the contact, even if ethereal, not real at all...

All of this.

Did she have regrets? Not really, it was her job to impose the law, at a super villainous level, she was the law in a way. Though she wasn't about to shoot anyone.

But it was as it was.

It was over.


End file.
